


you're still the one

by hicsvntdracones



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Character Study, Dallas Stars, Love Confessions, M/M, i have a lot of feels about spezz ok, lots of feels about the sens losing the 07 cup and spezz asking for a trade and etc etc etc, shrugs some more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 18:51:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6819979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hicsvntdracones/pseuds/hicsvntdracones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Jason," Mattias says in a low, intimate, insistent voice. He lets out a noise of disbelief that Jason's being so harsh. "I just wanted to win." </p><p>The memory of Alfredsson throwing his helmet across the locker room, wretched despair in each heavy sob that wracked through him. That memory never leaves him. He snaps, </p><p>"We all wanted to win!"</p><p>[set 05/08-5/10/16 between Dallas' loss to St. Louis in Game 5 and their subsequent Game 6 victory]</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're still the one

**Author's Note:**

> shrug shrug shrug. i figure if i wrote a post-game 2 fic, might as well do a post-games 5/6 fic too. why the fuck not, yknow. anyway, this fic focuses mostly on spezza's career and the failures of the senators to ever win the cup and spezza's desire to win for once, all told through a janmark/spezza narrative. i tried to process my own love for the dallas stars' current roster by writing this fic, so there's a lot of the other dudes in there with a special splash of fidds/spezz bff, newbie love, and an undeniable admiration of jamie benn.
> 
> in case you didn't know, it's recent tradition for the stars to [listen to shania twain](http://edition.cnn.com/2016/05/10/sport/nhl-dallas-stars-shania-twain/) as they warm up. or, apparently in spezza's case, [belt along to](https://www.nhl.com/news/jason-spezza-invaluable-for-stars/c-280606968?tid=280202672) her music.

 

 

 

He knows as soon as the puck leaves his stick that it won't go in the net. It flies wide of Elliot, and the Blues get possession again. Jason skates to the bench to switch shifts and watches Mattias slash at Steen. He doesn't even hear the whistle, just watches the stick break in half and clatter to the ice. Then, one of their defensemen is grabbing Mattias, and before Jason is able to process, the power play has begun. 

 

He stares across the ice at Mattias, clutching his stick tightly, blue eyes darting across the ice to follow the plays. Oduya is on the ice, Jamie comes out too. A handpass gets called against St. Louis, and the tension boils over into Faksa as he and Parayko exchange words. The linesman shoves at Faksa's chest, and Jason watches Mattias fidget and squirm. So eager to play.  

 

He catches Mattias' eyes and without thinking, shakes his head. Coach had warned them about unnecessary penalties. The Blues had proved they were good on the power play, and as the two minutes wind down, all eyes are on Kari to block the shots. 

 

As soon as Mattias gets out of the penalty box, Vern goes in. 

 

Jason tries not to hear the disappointment in the crowd as the Blues score a fourth. 

 

 

 

The locker room still buzzes quietly as the media clears out. The hometown crowd cleared the stands even faster, and Jason feels the weight of Mattias' presence by his side now just like when they're on the line. 

 

"Coach warned us about penalties," Jason says in a low voice as he ties his shoes. Each move feels a bit sharper than it should, yet dull at the same time. His frustration and displeasure boils just below his skin, yet the history of so many Playoffs lost with the Sens has settled some deep-rooted acceptance within him. Mattias looks over at him. 

 

"I didn't seek out that penalty." 

 

When he looks out at Elliot across the ice, sometimes for just a moment, Jason sees Giguère. The C on Backes is the same C on Neidermayer, and Jamie's voice fades into Alfredsson's. He feels a nasty pull in his stomach and the feeling of an inevitable, crushing defeat. Mattias doesn't know that feeling yet. 

 

"I was going for the puck, I swear." Mattias sounds small in that moment. Jason wonders truly if Mattias is seeking reassurance or rebuke. 

 

"It was an unnecessary penalty, and we needed every man out there trying to tie up the game." 

 

He still tastes bile in his throat when he thinks about the confusion resulting in Emery's own goal. He had to school his face each time he saw Moen across the ice for the first year they played together on the Stars. Mattias doesn't know that. 

 

"Jason," Mattias says in a low, intimate, insistent voice. He lets out a noise like a laugh, a sound of disbelief that Jason's being so harsh. "I just wanted to win." 

 

The memory of Alfredsson throwing his helmet across the locker room, wretched despair in each heavy sob that wracked through him. That memory never leaves him. 

 

He snaps, 

 

"We all wanted to win!" 

 

The force of his words and the undeniable rage directed purely at Mattias shakes the rookie so visibly. Jason can feel everyone's eyes on them as Mattias' face drains of all color and he struggles to respond. He hates the way Mattias' eyes swim with tears. Gritting his teeth, he turns away from the other entirely and goes back to tending to his skates. After a moment, Mattias forces himself to move, hurriedly shoving his remaining things into his bag and fumbling with the zipper before hurrying to leave. Klinger tries to chirp at him in soft Swedish, but Mattias stalks past him out of the locker room. The air is heavy and, damn it all, hopeless. 

 

"Looks like Shania's magic wore off." Demers tries for a joke, reaches to knock shoulders with Jordie amiably, but no one responds, and the words fall flat. 

 

 

 

Vern keeps the radio on as they make their way up to University Park for an early dinner before the plane ride. He has one easy hand on the wheel while the other rests on the windowsill. Jason stares out at passing traffic on the tollway and lets Vern pick the restaurant. Jason insists to pay when they order, jokes mutely that the birthday boy shouldn't be made to pay. As they wait for their food, Vern talks about his parents coming to Monday night's game and shows Jason a few pictures of Blake and Bella despite their daughters having had a play date a week ago. Jason shows him a picture of Sophia reading to the young Julia just before their food arrives. 

 

"You were pretty hard on Matty, eh? He looked real rattled when he left." Vern says in a musing tone. There's no speculation there though, it was obvious for anyone to see that Jason's temper had gotten the best of him, at Mattias' expense. They had eaten half of their respective burgers and polished off their fries too. Jason looks at Vern plainly, 

 

"He shouldn't have slashed at Steen like that. We've been awful on the power play." 

 

Vern rolls his eyes and wipes his hands before tossing his napkin at Jason pointedly. 

 

"The kid's gotten one penalty in the entire Playoffs. He made it past the Wild without any penalties, and here in a shitty game five, he gets one measly minor. Big deal, Jace." 

 

"It—" 

 

"—is not a big deal. They didn't score on that power play, it just caused some stress. Some, yes, unnecessary stress." Vern speaks the words that had been lingering at the back of Jason's head for the past hour or so. It wasn't _that_  big of a deal that Mattias got a penalty. It was stressful to watch the power play from the bench, but nothing had happened. The fourth goal the Blues scored wasn't Mattias' fault. None of the goals were, it was the fault of a lacking defense and the superior play of St. Louis that afternoon. Jason sits back in his seat with a weary sigh. 

 

"Honestly," The older centerman laughs, "If you're gonna nag at somebody, I've got six minutes of penalty time versus Matty's two." 

 

"But—" Vern makes a noise to shut him up mid-protest. 

 

"And need I remind you that you've gotten a minor as well?" 

 

"Yeah, against Minnesota. In game two." A moment of silence passes between them as Jason chews on this truth and eats a few more bites of his burger. The look he gets from his friend is not disappointment but a sort of fond sympathy. 

 

"Are you being hard on the kid because he's a rookie? In that vase, get onto Val's case too. Johns' too. Hell, let Faksa get a good nagging from you too." 

 

"No, it— …" Jason waves Vern off for a moment and collects his thoughts. The bitterness bristling through him unsettles him, upsets him. "Yes? Maybe. … It's not just the young guys, it's vets too." 

 

Vernon tilts his head a bit, beckons Jason to go on. Exhaling a long breath, he folds his hands over the table. 

 

"The young guys don't understand what playoffs mean. They don't … they don't get it. They don't have the urgency, the know-how to just buckle down and push and push and push for the Cup. They haven't felt what it's like to be so close and then get … crushed." He bitterly thinks of how lamely Val has skated around in the earlier games, how he idly followed play and didn't chase every single opportunity. His fingers twitch, and he grips his hands tight. 

 

"And some of us vets … not us, obviously, some of us vets have already won the Cup. They've tasted victory, they've had their fill of glory." He shakes his head and gazes off at the front of house guiding guests to their seats. "Shit, Sharpy's got three rings. I mean, sure, he may want to win the cup with Dallas, but if not?" Jason shrugs. "Well, he's got three rings to rest on, y'know? Johnny, Antti. Even Segs has a ring." 

 

He pulls his hands apart and taps one finger emphatically on the tabletop. 

 

"Their names are on the Cup already, you see. _T_ _hey did it_." 

 

Vern watches him across the table. 

 

"And then there's … us. There's me. Vern, I left Ottawa because I wanted to win. I've only got a few more seasons left, but I told Jennifer it would be worth it to move down here, because Dallas had the makings of greatness." 

 

They had talked about it a few times. Long plane rides for longer roadies turned into conversations about their possible futures here in Dallas. To stay or to go. They were passing their prime, it wasn't as if they were ideal trading cards. Even Sharpy with his three rings and stellar record was considered old news when he was traded to Dallas. The rookies don't get it, they all said. Him and Vern and Ales and Sharpy. They watched the rookies with their bright eyes and clean injury record and felt a sort of nostalgic envy for them. 

 

There comes a time when you just have to know when enough is enough, Jason had told Ales when they left Ottawa. 

 

He rests his cheek in his hand, turns away from the loudeningly chaos of the dinner rush.  

 

"Jamie, he … Jamie gets it." His voice is softer now, so much of the anger burnt away. It all just leaves you, he had heard someone say once. All the passion just goes away, all the caring leaves. "He's never gotten a ring, never held the Cup. He pushes and pushes and really understands what it takes. I can see the frustration, the yearning in him, and I really respect him. He's the captain we need to win." 

 

 

 

The sun is sinking in the western Dallas sky by the time they have their travel bags and are parking at the airport. Vern recalls his earlier question as the rest of the team comes into view, 

 

"I meant to ask are you being hard on Matty because he's a rookie? Because he's your liney? Or, uh—" Jason's eyes find Mattias in the crowd. Vern's voice softens, "—or because you love him?" 

 

 

 

"Is this seat taken?" Sharpy asks with a tired smile and tousled hair. Jason looks up at him holding his bag and a doggy-eared book in hand. He starts to glance around for his usual seat partner, Mattias. 

 

"He asked to sit with Johnny," Sharpy offers as an explanation before Jason can be caught searching. He sinks a bit lower into his seat and gestures that, obviously, the seat is not taken. Sharpy puts his book down and methodically places his bag in the overhead carrier before getting settled. Jason watches Johnny lead Mattias — most assuredly avoiding Jason's gaze — to their seats a few rows back. 

 

"Swedes," The Chicagoan jokes. 

 

Jason watches Jordie take the spot next to his brother, sees Antti and Kari automatically find each other. Jason figures Mattias is still upset about getting snapped at earlier, and maybe, he guesses, he's searching for some comfort in his countrymen. It's not an unusual thing to do. Klinger clambers to the back of the plane as well to join his fellow Swedes, and Rous, a row behind Jason and Sharp, asks Sceviour if they should be worried about a Swedish conspiracy. A few players joke back and forth about the Swedes banding together until Johnny hushes them all with a glare, and then conversation returns to typical things. 

 

He appreciates Sharpy's warm presence at his side, the silence he provides and the fact that nobody disturbs Sharpy when he's reading, which means Jason isn't getting disturbed in the window seat. He could have pried, Jason thinks as they're halfway to Missouri. He could have asked, could have chided or been confided in, but he didn't. And for that, Jason is thankful. 

 

 

 

As Jason sets his bag down in his single hotel room, he hears his daughters answer their mother's cell phone. He greets them sweetly as Sophia gabs on and on about a girl at her daycare who is her new best friend. Within a few moments, the protesting "mom"s signal Jennifer carefully wrestling the phone from the girls.  

 

"Hi, Jason." Her voice washes over him as he lays back on the bed with an exhausted sigh. 

 

"Hey, Jenny." 

 

"What's going on?" Hearing her is like coming home, Jason thinks. Then he thinks about Matty. 

 

He tells her everything, as he always does. She had been the first one he turned to for years. When Heatley left, when they lost to the Ducks, when his back was injured, when they gave him the C. When he got the call from Dallas. 

 

When he fell for Mattias. 

 

Her soft noises of acknowledgment and little murmurs soothe the most upset part of Jason. He feels himself relax against the bed as they talk. There is a moment where he hears Nicola ask for something and the motherly tone Jennifer gets as she responds to their daughter warms him. He can't help but think of when she brought Julia, only a month old, to the practice center after a long and tiresome day. Sophia made her way to Vernon to demand a playdate with Bella while Jason made his way to his beaming wife. 

 

"Long practice?" She had asked with a smile as Jason gently accepted their youngest daughter into his embrace. He cooed at her and didn't see Jennifer wave Matty over. He had never been to their home, Jason remembers now, but Jennifer and Mattias had met many times, and Jason was grateful when he got her one-hundred percent approval before their affair ever began. He's cute, she had giggled one night as Jason rubbed her growing belly. 

 

"Don't be afraid to bring Matty home when you guys come back." He comes back to St. Louis to hear Jennifer say this. He can practically hear her smiling at the way he stutters to respond. 

 

"I know you were thinking about him, sweetie. You should go and tell him." 

 

"Tell him what?" 

 

She doesn't respond except to chuckle a bit. 

 

"Girls, tell daddy good night and good luck on his game." He hears a chorus of good nights and good lucks from Sophia and Nicola, then the trademark mumbles of Anna Lucia. He echoes the good night and tells them all to get to bed soon. 

 

"I love you, Jason." Jennifer says before the phone call ends a moment later.  

 

"I love you too, Jenny." He sighs. 

 

"Go talk to Matty." 

 

 

 

His heartbeat thuds loud in his chest as he makes his way to Mattias' hotel room. He hears his own words looped back, practiced, rehearsed. Just say it, he tells himself as he hears the door handle jostle and then door swing open. 

 

"Jas—" Mattias starts, eyes wide in surprise. His words go out the window though, and he reaches forward to cup Mattias' cheeks and pull him in for a bruising kiss. Matty opens his mouth to answer, stepping closer on instinct as Jason deepens the kiss. He feels Matty's hand grip the fabric of his shirt, then, 

 

"Matti? Who at door?" The sudden other voice startles the two to separate, and Jason watches the flush bloom on Mattias' pale cheeks as he answers, 

 

"It's Spezz, Val." Mattias smooths a hand quickly over the wrinkle in Jason's shirt as the other occupants peer to see their veteran center standing there. Jason curses himself for getting caught up in his thoughts and not having checked to see if Mattias was in a single or a double room. Val appears around the corner of the room, then Klinger, then Faksa, then Eaks. Jason can't help but laugh. 

 

"Are you having a sleepover?" They all look at each other sheepishly, all in well-worn t-shirts and sweatpants before Jason's immaculate game-day suit. 

 

"We were watching videos of fights to make Matty feel better." Klinger blurts out before processing that it might not be the most appropriate thing to say to the man who made Matty upset to begin with. Jason takes it all in stride and asks which brawl they were watching in particular. 

 

"The Senators-Sabres brawl of 2007." Eakin barely holds back his laughter seeing the recognition dawn on Jason's face. Mattias still hasn't turned to face the other players, and Jason sees the apologetic look on his face. There's no harm in it though, he figures. 

 

"The one that started with Drury getting knocked down and ended with Emery and Miller brawling?" 

 

"Don't forget the part where Lindy sent out his goon squad to get you, Spezz." Faksa snickers, and, oh, Jason remembers. He sees Mattias fidgeting with his hands and the sight is blocked from the others, so Jason lays a warm hand over his to settle him. He grins at Faksa, 

 

"And when Lindy and Murray had a screaming match on the bench and most of the players were ejected." The younger players erupt with laughter. Those were the days of bench-clearing brawls and many lost teeth, a time long gone that these kids didn't get to play during. 

 

"If you want a real good one, watch the Flyers-Senators brawl from 2004." He motions to the phone in Val's hand, but it's soon snatched away by Klinger who searches for the aforementioned fight. "Holds the record number of penalty minutes at four-hundred nineteen. Oh, and … if you watch til the end, you'll see Sharpy kick my ass." 

 

"Sharpy?" Val says, incredulous. He knows Sharpy as the refined sharpshooter, the dignified, three-time winner of the Stanley Cup. Jason remembers the fiesty Manitoban on the Flyers who socked him so hard he saw stars. The four others gather around Klinger to start watching and give Jason a moment to speak to Mattias. He's stopped fidgeting. 

 

He cups Mattias' cheek again, but doesn't kiss him. Not here, not now. He'll save it. 

 

"Would you come to my room tonight?" He asks soft enough for no one else to here. Mattias leans into Jason's touch and smiles with a nod. Jason lets his hand fall back to his side as he wishes the others a good night before he leaves. 

 

 

 

Mattias barely lets the door close before Jason's back is against the wall and his lips on Jason's. He struggles to latch the door's lock before responding, and much to Matty's dismay, his response is to break the kiss. 

 

"I need to apologize." He says in a breath, before Mattias can grab him again. The Swede stares up at him and then looks away. His hands are still tight on Jason's newly donned sleeping shirt, so Jason takes hold of them reassuringly. He offers a compromise, "I can apologize after we kiss, but it needs to be before anything else happens." 

 

He guides Mattias back towards the bed, only briefly missing a stumble over his discarded dress shoes. He lays back and lets his rookie straddle his waist, settling his hands comfortably on Mattias' muscled thighs. They kiss for quite some time, until Jason can only think of the apology and the confession blurring into one and the way Mattias feels so right against him.  

 

"Apologize." Mattias mutters against his lips when they break for air. He pulls back slightly so Jason can see the doubt welling up in his eyes, a doubt that Jason needs to wash away. He moves so they're laying side by side, and he can prop himself up on one elbow to look Mattias properly. He brushes a hand through the rookie's wavy brown hair. 

 

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, then more firmly, "I'm sorry for snapping at you, for taking out my anger on you like that. You didn't deserve it, and I was overreacting because of the stress." The tension in Mattias eases out of him with each spoken word. Jason has never lied to him, never even thought to try lying to him. He knows this is the truth. 

 

"You're supposed to be a veteran, Jason." There is no spite, no bitterness behind Matty's words, and Jason curls his hand loosely in his hair. 

 

"I know, Matty. I know. I just let the pressure get to me, and I'm sorry." Mattias falls silent for a moment as Jason continues petting his hair and dragging his nails gently against his scalp. He opens his eyes later and asks in a low tone, 

 

"When you said 'we all wanted to win,' you meant you too, right?" 

 

Jason thinks of Alfredsson. Thinks of Heatley and Emery and all the Sens. 

 

"Yeah." 

 

"You, in particular, you wanted to win." He nods mutely when Mattias states this so, so obvious fact. 

 

"I wanted to win the game, but I also want to win the Cup. I want to win the Cup with this team, with our line, with you." His hand moves back to stroke Matty's cheek, and Matty holds his hand in his own with a tired, little grin. 

 

"I want to win the Cup with the team too, Jason, and with you."  

 

He leans in, reveling in the weak moan that escapes Mattias as they kiss once more. His lips are wet and swollen, hair messy and beautiful all at once. His blue eyes watch Jason with all the warmth in the world solely for him. 

 

"I love you," he murmurs in the space between them, watching as the words register in Matty and watching the way his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he closes his eyes and leans in for another kiss. It is slow and perfect, and Matty must know this is Jason's truth. 

 

"I love you too," Matty breathes, a stunning smile crossing his face. Jason breaks out in a bout of ecstatic giggles as he pulls Matty close once again. I love you, they whisper. I love you, they groan. I love you, they laugh. 

 

 

 

The gentle tones of his first alarm somehow manages to drag Jason out of his slumber. He fumbles with his phone for a moment using his free left arm, hits snooze, and then turns back to curl around Mattias once more. It only takes a few minutes — the convenient time in between snoozes — for Jason to remember the weight of their next game. They have to force a seventh game, he thinks as he slowly wakes up. Rubbing at his eyes with that left hand, he feels Mattias snuggle closer to him and complain in muffled Swedish. He gives Matty a gentle squeeze, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. 

 

"Good morning, Mattias." This address earns him a strange, sleep-addled glance over the shoulder. Mattias shifts around so his face is pressed to Jason's chest instead as he mumbles, 

 

"Like it when you call me Matty…" 

 

His phone began to hum in alarm. Jason reaches to grab it and turn the alarm off. 

 

"Okay, Matty," he says as he kisses the top of Matty's head. "We have a team breakfast to get to and then morning skate." 

 

The groan in response is almost animalistic, like a high-pitched whine not a rookie refusing to get out of bed. Jason laughs as he peels himself away and goes to take a shower, leaving Mattias in bed for at least another ten minutes. A minute after he gets in the shower, however, he is pleasantly surprised by Mattias stepping inside the stall with him. Eyes still bleary and voice rough with sleep, Jason finds Mattias at his most lovely. He laughs when Mattias almost dozes off again not a moment later. 

 

 

 

"Shania again?" Jordie laughs as they dump a pile of pucks onto center ice for shooting practice. Jason grins back at him as Jamie argues that she's good luck. 

 

"You have to believe in the power of Shania." Pulling his best captain-face, Jamie bursts into a grin moments later. They debate what other great Canadian artist they could listen to. 

 

"Michael Bublé?" Sharpy suggests, and Jason figures of course Sharpy would listen to a guy like that. 

 

"Maybe, but he's a Canucks fan." 

 

They hear Jamie mumble something, but Jordie's laughter fills the rink. 

 

"Did our captain just suggest Avril Lavigne?" Ales snorts as he skates up to Jason while juggling a puck on the end of his stick. 

 

"She is Canadian, but so is Justin Bieber and there's no way in hell we're listening to him." Jordie argues. Shania it is, they all agree as the country music floats through the cold stadium air. Jason focuses on his high shots against Kari as practice gets underway. Force a game seven, they keep hearing in between lyrics. Force a game seven. They practice drills in their respective lines, and Jason skates next to Mattias with a warm smile. "You're Still The One" plays high above them. Mattias smiles fondly about the song. 

 

"I love you." He mouths inaudibly. Jason mouths it back. 

 

"What do you two talk about?" Val asks curiously from his side of the line. Without missing a beat, Jason flashes him a grin. 

 

"Getting to game seven." 

 

Mattias nods. 

 

"Game seven." 

 

 

 

Val's pass connects, and Mattias only has one defender on him as he goes into the St. Louis zone. The bench roars to life as his shot is buried just above Elliot. Jason barely puts the brakes on as he rounds on Mattias and gathers him into his arms. The others on the ice come crowding in, patting Matty's helmet and cheering above the sounds of the stadium. 

 

"Game seven." Mattias says breathlessly as they go back to the bench. 

 

Vern nets goal number two less than a minute later. 

 

"Game seven." The bench seems to murmur. 

 

Jason drags and nails a high shot for number three. 

 

"Game seven." Jamie whispers as they gently bump helmets in the aftermath. He's trying to keep the hope out of his voice, but the whole team rumbles with excitement. Kari is a wall, their offense is strong. Jason knocks his glove against Jamie's chest and echoes the words back.  

 

Only he gets it, Jason had said. Looking at the bench, looking at Eaves' arm slung around Rous, looking at Jordie clap a strong hand on Jamie's back as he returns. Looking at Lindy who wears just the barest hint of a smile. They get it, he thinks. He looks then at Matty, sees the sweat dripping off his skin and the pure, unadulterated _ambition_ in his gaze. He gets it, Jason thinks. 

 

The game ends 3-2. They have their game seven.

 

 


End file.
